Happy Father's Day!

I managed to be the first in the family to wish Larry a Happy Father's Day, as Susie decided to wake us up at 4 this morning by puking in our bed. Being seasoned parents, our reflexes kicked in immediately - Larry leapt out of bed and started throwing towels at me to try to minimize the damage, while I traumatized the throw-up-ee by trying to clean her up while holding her at arm's length. While we were stripping the sheets off the bed, I commented that it was just as well - I was going to wash the bed linens today anyway. Larry responded with "Cool! That's just perfect! I'm glad this happened then!" Some people are sort of sarcastic when they're woken up too early, don't you think? So I let him sleep in a bit (all the way 'til 7) while I took Susie downstairs until she fell asleep in my arms an hour or so later. I hope Larry didn't expect a present on top of that.

While I was sitting there, martyring myself by forgoing sleep, I realized that today is the 17th anniversary of the day that Larry and I met. I resisted the urge to wake him up just to tell him. Sometimes I am able to act somewhat mature, you know. But sitting up with the baby gave me time to ponder, "Gee, if I could have foreseen this day 17 years ago, would I have acted differently?" Of course not. I mean, I don't think so. When Larry did wake up, I had to ask him the same question. "Would you have acted differently? Would you have run like hell?" His answer, of course, was, "Certainly not." That man hasn't been married all these years for nothing, you know. He knows the right answer, even when he's barely awake.

Theo has run away from home to spend the summer working at Boy Scout camp. I hope he decides to come back. Someone has to cook dinner around here. Larry took him down there on Saturday; so I got to spend all day amusing the little ones (with not too much help from Anna, who was not at all pleased on Friday to learn that she would not be returning to public school next year). Anna was shocked, shocked, to learn that her behavior was nowhere close to meeting our expectations these past 9 months - apparently, we were speaking Urdu all those times that we warned her to shape up.

The new house is a mess - full of boxes of camping gear, handyman tools, and I don't know what-all. Someday we'll get the attic planked over and be able to hide this stuff up there; in the meantime, however, this house feels smaller than the old one. But we're paying more for it. Which isn't a good feeling. The new windows arrive tomorrow (thanks, Grandpa!) - so Larry had to spend a lot of time today moving the boxes around to provide access for the window installers. He's not really been having the best of Father's Days, I guess. Tough. This move was all his idea anyway.

My birthday is coming up this week, which provides me with a nice excuse to sit around and eat bon-bons all day (and no, that's not what I do normally - normally, I sit around and yell at the kids all day). I'm not exactly expecting a present from Anna, though. Maybe she'll decide to refrain for the day from telling me how much she hates me. That would be nice.

Movin' On Up

We're moving! The fun...has begun! Ha, ha,ha,ha,ha,ha,ha,ha! (I'm not sure, but I think that is how one would spell out hysterical laughter.) We're fine, really. We just have to figure out how to get everything that is in this house, into that other house. No problem. Especially with all the help we're getting from Anna, the one-armed mover. She keeps the other hand in her pocket, to illustrate just how much she doesn't care about the outcome of this whole process. Larry foiled my plans for an easy move by returning from his working retreat (oxymoron if I ever heard one) before I could manage to get the Salvation Army to show up with a really large truck for all of his junk. Whatever happens, that crap is not going back into my laundry room. Because it's even smaller this time. Bigger house, smaller laundry room, fewer storage closets - get the picture? More space for living, less space for junk. Now that's my kind of house.

The kids are all quite excited, except Anna of course, whose brain is still in some hormone-addled fog. Susie was so excited that she tried to help me paint our new hall closet while I wasn't looking. Serves me right for trying to get something accomplished. I won't attempt that again, that's for sure. Instead, I'll just take the kids to the pool. We had our inaugural 2007 visit yesterday, and being at the pool was just as wonderful as I remembered its being. I mean, until someone's kid (not mine, thank goodness) threw up into the splash pool. But I figure 48 hours will be enough time for things to become decontaminated enough for us to go back. If I'm wrong, everyone here will be throwing up next week while we're trying to move. Let's face it, we're not going to get off easy on this relocation thing. Something is going to happen, it's just a matter of what. At least it won't be chicken pox like last year. Hurricane, maybe? Who knows?

Of course, it doesn't help to have the carpet layers informing me that the outside wall of the basement bedroom is rotted out. So Larry tore out all the dry wall - somehow, it doesn't seem like my dream house with the exposed cinder block and studding. I'm trying not to look until he gets it fixed. Burying my head in the sand is what I do best.

David turns 10 next week, and I'm just praying I don't forget. And that I can find the cake pans in time.

So, if anyone is feeling bored this Wednesday or Thursday or Friday and happens to be in our area, and maybe feels the need for a little exercise, feel free to come on by to help out. Or you could just bring a chair and some snacks and sit and watch the fun. We live to entertain.

Reality Sinks In

Well, I guess I was feeling a bit giddy when I was writing the last newsletter. Now reality has sunk in and Larry and I are realizing that even though we sold the house, that means we have to buy the other, bigger, more expensive house. So we're not quite as giddy as we were a few weeks ago. Still relieved, but not giddy. I've explained to Larry that I simply do not work with numbers in the 6 digits because they make me nervous and then I'd have to consume more chocolate and then that nifty bathing suit I treated myself to last year after I lost all that weight would no longer fit. And that wouldn't be good. So he's handling the financing and I'm signing whatever anyone puts in front of me without looking at it. This is a worrisome situation, as I am supposed to be the math brain around this place. Too bad. I quit.

Anna has misplaced her sense of humor and cannot find it anywhere. Tonight at dinner I noticed that she had drawn a few small hearts on her bare upper arm (shades of a tattoo?) and so I asked her if that was akin to wearing her heart on her sleeve. She looked at me as if I had just thrown up all over her dinner. You know, I didn't expect her to be rendered helpless with laughter; just a small smile would have been enough.

Susie, believe it or not, is figuring out how to whistle by watching Rachel. She's brilliant. She is also brave. She doesn't even flinch when Rachel stands directly in front of her and screams into her face (at absolute top volume), "I told you not to drink from my cup!" Susie knows who Mommy is going to side with. I told you she's smart.

Theo thinks he can write a research paper in a week. How did he learn to act like a college student already?

All the kids went to the dentist today (why are you reading this? I don't know). I love that place - 5 kids for cleaning and checkups and we were still out of there in under an hour. With balloons. Rachel was trying to tell Alison (only the world's greatest dental assistant - didn't you know?) how to take x-rays. Which is odd, as Rachel has never had x-rays taken before. Anna was there, too; she managed not to die of embarrassment during the whole ordeal of being seen in public with us.


Larry thinks he is going away again next week, on another (ahem) management retreat. How stupid does he think I am?

Don't answer that.

Well, I've got to go figure out how to pack up all the stuff in this house; although I really cannot understand how there is anything left here, what with all the boxes we stuffed in our neighbor's house before the house sale and the bags and bags of things I threw out or gave away. But there are still a lot of items to deal with. Luckily, I can get rid of all that junk Larry insists on holding onto while he is away next week. All of it. Every last piece. Are you reading this, honey? Good.

Obsessions

It's been a month of obsessions and consuming passions here, folks.

Larry and I are, unfortunately, obsessed with home improvement. We had to fix up this dump we call home to sell it; and now that it is sold (ta-da! we did it! boy are we lucky...), we get to fix up the next place. Anything to keep the economy strong and growing...

Larry actually stayed up all night one night last week to paint. Believe me, he is way too old to do that. My favorite part of getting the house ready to sell was scrubbing the grout on the kitchen floor night after night after night. It paid off, though. Our house was on the market for only 4 days. I know I couldn't have lasted much longer. It felt like boot camp around here. I'd jump out of bed in the morning, make all the beds, sweep and swiffer all the floors, wipe down all the bathrooms, hide the dirty laundry, and finally, 2 hours later, look around to try to find the kids. I'd spend the rest of the day making sure they stayed outside. I even fed them out there. They had a great time, of course (aside from dealing with a crazy mother) - we kept picking up food from Wendy's or Chick-Fil-A (thanks, Grandpa) rather than risk dirtying our pristine kitchen.

Anyway, someone came through during the weekend and really liked the house. Really. I mean, I like my house, of course - it's mine. 2 of my babies were born here. Lots of memories are here. But for the life of me, I have no idea what this perfect stranger saw here that made him want to offer us full price in a buyer's market. But he did. And we jumped at it. Because money does talk.

Brian is obsessed with tornadoes and earthquakes. Only tornadoes and earthquakes, however - I offered him a book about hurricanes (hey, a disaster is a disaster is a disaster, right?), and he said to me, in all seriousness, "Oh, I don't do hurricanes." Okay.

Anyway, he is particularly obsessed with tornadoes. I came inside from a walk the other day and found him along with several neighborhood kids crouching in our basement. Seems that Brian assessed the weather conditions as "threatening" and advised everyone to take shelter.

And yes, he loves the Weather Channel Online. He can't get enough of it.

Anna is obsessed with the fact that she hates all of us and that we will not let her grow up and do whatever she wants. Because that's what being a grown-up means, according to her addled teenage reasoning. And the only reason that Larry and I don't get to do whatever we want is because we are losers. Because that's what she's going to do when she grows up. Whatever she wants. And she wants us to stop blaming her for everything. I don't know who we are supposed to point the finger at when her bed goes unmade (we've been showing the house, remember?) or when her teacher says she was unprepared for class, but it is most emphatically not her fault. And the dent she put in the dishwasher when she slammed the stool into it in a fit of pique the night before our Open House? That wasn't her fault either. She didn't do it.

Someone's insane here, and I don't think it's me. But what do I know? I'm a loser.

Theo is obsessed with finishing up his 9th-grade work so he can get the heck out of here on June 16th. I don't blame him. He's disappointed that our moving date is prior to his departure; but that's too bad. Someone has to move all this furniture.

David is still obsessed with airplanes. He can't understand why we cannot keep every blessed duct tape-craftstick airplane model he has ever made. But the new house just isn't that big. Sorry.

Rachel has taught herself how to whistle. We are very grateful that she has a new, non-destructive hobby. We encourage it. She also practices "writing" every chance she gets. We stumble across pieces of paper with what can only be described as chicken scratch all over them. Theo thinks she's channeling destructive suggestions from the underworld, a theory I pooh-poohed until we came across a piece of paper with a crude drawing of a toilet (I am not making this up) with a frowny face next to it. We're thinking of sending her up to Grandma and Grandpa until we get this house off our hands.

And Susie - she's obsessed with talking. She imitates every word we say, which is cute unless she witnesses one of Anna's tantrums.

And me - I'm obsessed with getting at least 5 hours of sleep a night. So I am going to bed. Sweet dreams!

Stomach-Flu-Of-the-Month Club

I'm trying to remember - did one of my friends send me a Stomach-Flu-of-the-Month Club membership for Christmas? If anyone did, it's working. We're dealing with the March selection currently; it is leisurely making its way through all the members of this household. It's fun taking turns sleeping with the dishpan - I'm sure that, as grownups, all my children will look back fondly on this little family tradition of ours. I was stricken late, late Thursday night (around the same time Rachel started throwing up); and would you believe Larry tried to sneak off to work on Friday morning? "Just for an hour," he begged. Yeah, right - do I look stupid? Don't answer that. Obviously, I'm not stupid or I wouldn't have hidden his car keys between bouts of retching. He got me back by managing to fall ill last night just as the baby started vomiting. She was not very happy about it, let me tell you. And neither was I.

I'm not sure why anyone reads this stuff - it's sickening.

Oh, and the virus started with Anna - not that I think she did it on purpose or anything, but she does hate us. She tells me so, repeatedly. Ad nauseum, in fact. See?

I'm tired, or I wouldn't find that so funny. Anyway, just because Larry was in bed all day with the flu, he thinks he shouldn't have to paint the kitchen cabinets tonight as he had promised. I was going to paint them myself and surprise him, but he doesn't like those sort of surprises. Plus, we seem to be in the middle of winter here again and it's too cold to open the windows; so I'm worried I'll kill everyone with paint fumes. The result being, I'm going to wake up tomorrow to the same grungy-looking woodwork in the kitchen. At this rate, we'll be able to sell our house in, oh, 2012. Maybe.

And how about that snow, huh? Wasn't it fun getting out all the shovels and the snowboots and the snowpants again, after washing them and hanging them up in the back of the closet for next year? I had a blast. Really. And now we get another week of mud. That's great, just great. I need to wash the foyer floor every day - that's what I'm here for, isn't it?

You know, I think the tedium (tedia?) of housework is getting to me. I need to shake things up a bit. Maybe I will go paint those cabinets tonight, just for kicks. Who needs sleep? Not me.